


Dionysian

by considerate_skeleton



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Age Difference, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Sex Pollen, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/considerate_skeleton/pseuds/considerate_skeleton
Summary: Gabranth takes his eyes off the Emperor for barely a minute at a banquet. A minute is long enough for someone with wicked intentions.
Relationships: Gabranth | Noah fon Ronsenburg/Larsa Ferrinas Solidor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	Dionysian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Welsper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/gifts).



The Archadian Emperor, young though he was, had a masterful sense of composure when it came to politicking. Lord Larsa knew how to keep his wits about him, even when tensions exploded or his own life was put in danger. (The latter, Noah was unfortunately all too familiar with. Too many upstarts who underestimated their Emperor. They learned the hard way that the only thing sharper than Larsa’s tongue was his Judge’s sword.)

All this was to say that if Larsa was acting out of sorts in the middle of a counsel meeting, something must have been deeply wrong.

From the corner of the room, Noah watched with concern as Larsa’s movements became increasingly erratic. He was still speaking coherently, but his eyes were unfocused and his hand gestures uncoordinated. The beginnings of a flush peeked out from under his collar. He didn’t look feverish so much as intoxicated, and Noah knew his charge far too well to assume Larsa had gone and drunk himself silly at the banquet before the meeting.

The banquet before the meeting. The banquet during which Noah had been temporarily pulled aside to deal with a minor security matter, putting Larsa out of his sight for a minute. A minute was long enough for someone with ill intentions to make sure something poisoned was delivered to the evening’s generous young host.

Noah went cold.

This meeting was not that damn important. He ignored the objections he received upon calling a recess and forcefully escorting Larsa out of the hall. He raked his gaze over the guests as he steadied his lord’s unbalanced gait, but no one had an obvious aura of guilt. Finding the culprit could come later, however. For the moment, all that mattered was ensuring Larsa was safe.

Noah pulled them both into a side chamber, bolting the door behind them. He would fetch a medic as soon as he could be sure no assassins were coming to take advantage of the emperor’s blatant indisposition. Larsa seemed unable to stand on his own strength, given the way he clung to Noah’s side.

“Oh, gods,” Larsa muttered, his face buried in the harsh armor of his Judge’s uniform. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I.” Not a question.

“What’s wrong?” Noah prodded, pulling a chair out and easing Larsa into it. The boy still refused to let go of him. 

“I suspect my typical wine was replaced with the Bacchus variety.”

Noah glanced at the death grip Larsa had on his arm. Was he holding back a wave of violence? It would be difficult to remain sedate under such a spell, unless...

“...and I suspect it was laced with something else.”

It only took a glance below Larsa’s waist to give him an idea of what that ‘something else’ might have been.

“Wretches,” Noah growled. “Stooping to such underhanded tactics. I’ll-”

“You’ll stay here.”

Larsa wasn’t a scrawny weakling. He’d had education in combat, and he did his best to keep up with a training routine in between the hectic duties of his station. Still, he might as well have been a kitten, beside his Judge. The difference between them could be measured in decades of experience just as well as it could be in inches or pounds. 

Which meant that Larsa must have been incredibly agitated to yank Noah off his feet.

Noah stumbled, balancing himself on one knee and frowning up at Larsa. “My lord, you need-”

“Help.” Larsa finished the sentiment for him. “I need help,” he insisted. There was a tone to his voice - an undercurrent of warranted confidence that Noah was used to hearing in speeches and negotiations. When Larsa spoke with it, he was saying, _We both know that doing what I suggest is for your own good, as well as mine. Yes? Good._

Noah wasn’t using to having it turned on him. He licked his lips, wondering when they’d gone dry. “I’m no healer.”

“No, you’re not.” Larsa agreed. 

Gods, Noah could hardly meet his eyes. Larsa had kind, cautious eyes that spoke of a good soul raised among vipers. Noah had grown quite fond of those eyes over the years. They were nowhere to be found, now. The gaze Larsa pinned him with was intense and - though it made him shudder to put such a name to it - covetous. It reminded him of the worst parts of Vayne.

It was the drug, Noah reminded himself. Larsa wasn’t thinking straight. For the boy’s own good, it was best to leave him and-

“A healer can’t help me,” Larsa said, cupping Noah’s stubble-ridden cheek with one hand. “Only you can.”

Gods.

 _Not in his right mind,_ Noah reminded himself. Not anywhere near his right mind. Otherwise, Larsa would never say something like this to his guard dog. Larsa appreciated his service and his company, or so he would like to think, but...no. Judge Gabranth had long ago stopped entertaining fantasies of his lord treating him with the impropriety he might once - foolishly - have wished for.

And it was foolish. Aside from their ages, aside even from their roles...what did someone like Noah have to offer a handsome, intelligent young leader with an empire at his fingertips?

“Please,” Larsa whined, sliding his legs open and inviting Noah between them with a hand on the back of his neck.

A dark, immoral part of Noah whispered an answer: _You have one thing to offer him. You could give him what he’s asking for now._

Noah recoiled. He could never take advantage of his charge like that. Even if Larsa thought he wanted it; it was only a momentary madness. Noah would truly be disgusting to go along with it.

He shook his head. For several reasons; to indicate his refusal, to shake off Larsa’s grip, and to clear his own straying thoughts. “My lord.” He began to stand once more. “You know not what you ask of me.”

“Nonsense,” Larsa snapped. Noah froze at the open frustration in his voice. Larsa never showed his emotions like this. He’d internalized the pleasant mask of royalty from young age. The attack on Larsa’s senses truly had lowered his inhibitions. “I’m not a child anymore.” Hurt joined the frustration. His stare pleaded with Noah as much as his words. “Do you still take me for one? Do you think me naive?”

“No,” Noah said. “But-”

“But! But what?” Larsa grasped his wrists, and Noah lacked the will to twist his hands away. “Do I repulse you? Are you ashamed of me?”

There was no time to think a level-headed response through. “Never!”

“Then what is your scruple?” Larsa’s grip went slack. He hung his head, and a bitter laugh shook his sagging shoulders. “Or maybe you resent me.”

“My lord, I don’t understand. Your thoughts aren’t your own.”

“I know my thoughts, Judge Gabranth.” 

The uncharacteristic and pointed use of his title outside the public eye cut Noah deep. He took the hint and went silent.

“They say,” Larsa continued, “an Empire is her Emperor. Archadia has mistreated you in many ways. I was a fool to forget that.”

Larsa dropped his hands. He curled over his lap, poorly disguising the unnatural arousal that still incensed him. 

“If you hate me, just go.”

 _A momentary madness_ , Noah attempted to remind himself. But that knowledge did nothing in the face of his beloved lord believing his guard despised him. He couldn’t stand for it.

And so, against all that was right and sane, Noah knelt down once more. He reached up and grasped Larsa’s arms. Through his gloves, he could feel they were shaking. Straining with the effort of holding back from trying to maul the knight who’d been with him for so long.

Larsa probably wouldn’t have been able to do much damage anyway. But the fact that he was hurting himself in an effort to stop...and Noah was refusing to help...and if he walked away now, Larsa would go the rest of his days thinking the man by his side despised him for the circumstances of his birth...

“I could never hate you, Lord Larsa.”

Larsa perked up immediately. The fire in his eyes - both lustful and dangerous - toldNoah there’s no backing out now.

“Then _touch_ me. I won’t break.”

Noah would be a liar if he said he’d never thought about doing what he was doing now. If he said he’d never imagined sliding Larsa’s shirt up his stomach, opening his trousers, and exploring the wet heat between Larsa’s legs. It was simply that, in his buried fantasies, it didn’t feel this wrong.

At least - at least Larsa was responding well. That was the important part. He wrapped his lithe legs around Noah’s shoulders. He urged him on with hands in Noah’s short hair and soft, insistent moans. Those sounds, at least, sounded like what Noah had imagined.

Gods, he was filthy. It was bad enough to have those unnatural desires in the first place, but to _act_ on them-

Hot flesh pressing at his lips made for a good distraction from his spiral of self-loathing.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered around the length in his mouth, knowing that Larsa wouldn’t hear or understand him.

He wondered if the rational part of Larsa was aware, underneath the layer of violence redirected to lust. Was it watching Larsa as he dragged himself deeper into depravity? As he thrust into Noah’s mouth, enthusiasm outweighing any inexperience? Forget what Larsa would think of his knight, after this was all over. What would the poor lad think of himself?

All of that and more should have been enough to dampen Noah’s own desires. The latent affection for his lord had always been there, but there was no reason for it to respond to this shameful incident. 

And yet. His body clearly wasn’t reading the room correctly.

With a hitched sigh, Larsa pulled out of his mouth. He carelessly rid himself of his remaining clothing - a sight Noah couldn’t look away from and hardly tried to. Larsa’s skin was a smooth, flawless canvas. It only made Noah aware of the netting of scars that coated much of his own body. Armor only protected so much.

“This hardly seems fair,” Larsa said, tugging at one of Noah’s belts. 

Noah balked once more. It was one thing to offer his lord the use of his mouth. (And only for an emergency, of course.) If they only went this far, maybe both of them could salvage a bit of dignity. If they only went this far, maybe they could still go _back_.

Larsa pleaded with wide eyes, and Noah gave up any hope of going back. 

Larsa pulled him close once he’d undressed. His bare body was scorching hot in the chill of the side rooms. There was a certain tenderness in the way Larsa held him that made Noah shiver. It was dangerously close to a display of affection. He couldn’t think that way. He couldn’t assume Larsa shared his feelings, simply from the foolish things he did under the influence of some wicked magick. Not even when Larsa went up onto his toes to kiss a scar on Noah’s neck.

Noah gasped. “You’re going to be the death of me, my lord.”

Larsa placed another kiss on the hollow of his jaw before pulling away. “Then let’s share a death together.”

Noah wished he could say he resisted. He wished he could brag that he valiantly spurned his lord’s amorous attentions, only acting out of duty ‘til the very end. The truth was, the moment Larsa’s lips brushed his own in a short, playful kiss, every one of Noah’s walls broke. His lord had truly mounted a perfect siege on him.

The healing potions that Larsa carried at all times had a thin, slick consistency. And it eased some of Noah’s guilt, knowing that it would preclude Larsa feeling any pain at his hand. Well. His hand and other parts of him.

Proceeding from there wasn’t an easy matter. As ready and willing as his lord was, any exploration he’d done of his own body paled in comparison to having a flesh and blood partner. Particularly one that was bigger than him. In several areas. Larsa, however, was impatient - a word Noah would never have thought to ascribe to him. It caught Noah off guard when he found himself pushed back onto the floor. 

Larsa straddled his waist. Noah was fairly sure his heart stopped beating for a moment at the sight. 

“I told you,” Larsa said, taking matters into his own hands, “I won’t break.”

In one rough, artless movement, his lord mounted him.

It was better this way, Noah soon figured. As much as he still feared hurting Larsa, this way the boy could set his own pace. And - gods forgive him - it felt _divine._

Noah reached out for Larsa’s hands, letting him steady himself as he took his pleasure from Noah’s body. Larsa took them. Once more, Noah swallowed down the temptation to take the gesture as that of a lover. This was...this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong, and yet Noah couldn’t bring himself to give a damn when Larsa looked into his eyes with a fond, lusty smile and whispered, “Thank you.”

Seconds after Larsa spilled himself onto Noah’s stomach, his eyes fluttered and he went limp. Noah caught him mid-collapse. He wanted to panic, but a cursory examination showed nothing more than a young man exhausted from fucking the magick out of himself. In his dead sleep, Larsa nuzzled into his guardian’s chest. 

Their world was going to shatter the moment Larsa opened his eyes. For now, Noah held him close and matched the rhythm of his breaths.


End file.
